Vodka Lemonade
by lydiamaartin
Summary: Italy has plenty of handsome men for Henley's tastes. Daniel, however, isn't too fond of them. Why? Well, she has an educated guess. - "I'm not jealous! I just don't think they're good enough for you." - HenleyDaniel.


**disclaimer:** i don't own anything you recognize.

**notes:** this movie is fantastic; go watch it. story takes place in the distant future after its ending.

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Daniel was still awake at midnight when Henley entered the Italian villa bought by The Eye as a gift for their latest act. She found him sitting at their kitchen island, gulping down a glass of mint lemonade – if it wasn't spiked with vodka, she figured that he probably wanted to be sober to greet her when she came home.

Which, of course, she now was. "Oh, hello," she greeted, half-cheerful, half-surprised. She honestly hadn't expected anyone to be both at home and awake when she returned. Jack liked to spend nights at the houses of pretty Italian girls these days, and Merritt tended to crash and burn after drinking – which he spent a lot of time doing once he'd taken a liking to Italian drinks.

"Hi," Daniel said, swiveling around on the stool to face her. He didn't look that drunk, so maybe he hadn't added vodka, although she did note that his hair was messier than usual and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. If he wasn't drunk, he definitely wasn't completely sober, though it might not be the fault of alcohol.

"How was your date?" he asked in a tone of voice that sounded rather practiced, drawing her away from her musings. Henley smiled and deposited her purse on the couch behind him.

"Pretty good," she said brightly, sauntering over to him. She didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on her body – she had, naturally, picked the dress specifically to attract, though not _Daniel_, specifically. Not that she minded his attention. "Nice guy, really. Fresh-faced, idealistic businessman – you know how I like them."

She decided not to mention how her date had spent half the time ogling the blonde waitress and the other half trying to subtly suggest they go skinny-dipping on the nearest beach. Daniel really didn't need to know the sordid details – or that she had replaced her number in the guy's phone with a fake at the end of the night.

"Indeed," he said dryly. "You definitely have a taste for the dimmest crayon in the box." This time, he sounded the slightest bit annoyed, even as he covered his statement with another large gulp of lemonade. She decided to revise her opinion on the inclusion of vodka in the drink.

Henley shot him an amused look. "I think you're mixing up your metaphors, Danny. And what do you have against Nico?" She actually wasn't entirely sure his name had been Nico, but that was okay. He wasn't going to see her ever again.

"I don't have anything against Nico," Daniel insisted, though his knuckles around his glass were slowly turning white as he watched her perch on the back of the couch. It was hard to guess if it was her swinging legs that distracted him more or the way the neckline of her dress shifted when she moved.

"Right, like you didn't have anything against Leo or Dante or – " Henley began with a laugh, quite ready to list of the names of every guy she had gone on a date with during their time in Italy, almost all of whom had either turned out to be completely not her type or, of those whom she had actually liked, been scared away under suspicious circumstances.

"I just didn't like them!" Daniel interrupted before she could get too far in her list. "Look, you're a smart girl, but you don't really have the best taste in men. No offense."

Henley tilted her head consideringly. He wasn't entirely wrong, though of course, he also wasn't aware that her current taste in men was specially designed to annoy him, ever since she had noticed how disgruntled he had gotten back in America when Merritt had been flirting with her.

"Yeah, I suppose that would explain _you_," she agreed, stretching out her legs luxuriously. His eyes followed the movement up to the rather high hemline of her dress. "At least these Italian guys have manners and an ego that can fit the size of the room."

"You're incorrigible," he informed her, but the quick retort he no doubt had planned for a follow-up died on his lips when he managed to comprehend her first sentence through what she assumed was a haze of vodka. Although maybe it _was_ just lemonade – after all, he had managed to stop checking her out far more quickly than he might have if he were properly drunk.

"Wait," Daniel said slowly, eyeing her with a dawning realization, "did you _like_ me?" The statement was so absurdly short that she took a moment just to blink at him.

"I wouldn't have agreed to be your assistant if I didn't _like_ you," she pointed out, easily avoiding the underlying question as she hopped off the couch. "Now, if you don't min—"

He was suddenly exceedingly close to her. When had he left his stool? "Henley," he said, her name soft in his mouth, "did you or did you not just imply that your taste in men included me?" The smugness in his voice was almost overpowering, but she could hear the layer of hopefulness beneath his arrogance. She had always prided herself on knowing him the best out of all his assistants.

Henley huffed, crossing her arms. "At one point," she admitted, figuring there was nothing to be gained from trying to bluff her way out of this. "But you are, in case you had somehow failed to notice, a _jerk_, Daniel Atlas. And I don't date jerks."

"You date plenty of jerks," he scoffed, setting his glass down on the counter with a flourish that sent it twirling across the granite, although he didn't once take his eyes off her.

"Maybe, but none quite on your scale," she shot back, taking a deliberate step back. "I'm still not sure what your problem is, you know – my dating habits are none of your business."

"_Henley_." His voice appeared to have acquired a bit of a whine to it. "None of these guys are good enough for you, and you know it."

"Are you drunk?" Henley demanded, then shook her head. "No, forget that – are you _jealous_?" The word itself seemed to cause a flush of red in his cheeks. "Oh my god," she giggled, "you are, aren't you?"

"That's ridiculous," Daniel said firmly, stepping even further back than she already had. "Completely ridiculous. Why would I be _jealous_ over random Italian idiots who drool over any pretty girl in a skirt?"

Henley propped her hands on her hips, grinning. "That's a very good question, Danny. Why _would_ you be jealous of some Italian guy who _clearly_ can't hold a candle to you in all your stubble-faced egocentric annoying glory?"

He shot her a look that almost seemed hurt, which meant either he actually had been drinking or… or he actually _was_ hurt. "I'm not jealous," he grumbled. "I just don't think they're good enough for you."

"And who is?" she retorted, allowing herself a smirk – when Daniel's voice dropped like that, she had already gotten the upper-hand. "The guy who takes any opportunity he can to call me fat?"

"I do not!" he protested, then faltered at the look in her eyes. With a sigh, he walked closer to her again, though this time, she stayed put as a challenge. "I don't think you're fat," he said, more slowly and quietly. "You're not, and… and I'm sorry, okay?"

Daniel Atlas never apologized, Henley knew that for a fact. If he ever did, it was probably another one of his tricks. But his tone of voice was completely sincere, and she knew _that_ for a fact too, because, like it or not, she was one of the few people in the world who knew him almost as well as he knew himself.

"Sorry for what?" she asked, the accusing edge gone from her voice.

"You fit into all of those stupid boxes," he muttered instead of answering her properly. Typical. "And I still don't think these Italian guys are good enough for you."

"Who _is_ good enough for me, Danny?" she asked, her voice much softer now.

He didn't reply immediately, preferring to study the super-interesting carpet pattern instead. Henley counted to thirty before making a move to step back and go upstairs to sleep, since it didn't look like she'd be getting any sort of answer from him.

Daniel's hand grabbed her arm before she could walk away, and the next thing she knew, he had pulled her into a kiss that made her feel dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with magic or illusions. Henley closed her eyes and let herself relax into his arms as his hands slid around her body, keeping her close even when they parted for air.

"Tell me you aren't going to see him again," he breathed against her lips, although it was far more of a question than a command. She giggled and pulled him into another kiss for sufficiently long enough to distract him.

"That would take all the fun out of jealousy sex, don't you think?" she whispered when she drew back, a smile playing on her lips. Daniel's eyebrows rose to his hairline.

"I'm not jea—" he began, but found his train of thought thoroughly evaporated from his mind when Henley kissed him again.

Those Italian guys had been rather good for practice, after all. When she woke up the next morning covered in his bed sheets with Daniel sleeping soundly next to her, she figured it was worth the bad dates.

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**a/n:** i seriously cannot get these two out of my head. if you've read this far please drop me a review to let me know what you thought!

and **DON'T** favorite without reviewing, please and thank you.


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